April My Darling it's Spring

I think this poem speaks for itself, speaks for me.

when faces called flowers float out of the ground
when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it's april (yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)
when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving-
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)
when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living-
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)

Dancing mountains, little fish swimming and climbing, flowers like faces, birds diving, giving and having and living, but not keeping. And the word "gambol". I am feeling thankful for poetry, and for e. e. cummings.

On Friday night I went to hear Carol Ann Duffy, the British poet Laureate. It really was spring, and the room was warm, and the lighting was bad, but she read and I was moved. It was poetry being poetry. She read poems about wives and school girls and I was glad to be there with my friends. I bought a book of poems for children. She signed it and I gave her my green pen.